


Beacon Hills Sky

by rei_c



Series: Stiles Stilinski: Vongola Sky [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Claudia Stilinski's Background, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Sky Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Stiles' mother disappointed her family by renouncing her name and marrying into law enforcement. Stiles thought he'd never have a reason to talk to that side of the family, but then Gerard Argent tries to kill a couple of werewolves.





	Beacon Hills Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, okay.

"I am _going_ to get you out of here," Stiles says, teeth clenched to hold back the scream of agony just waiting at the back of his throat. He shouldn't be lifting his arms, not with what feels like three broken ribs and his right shoulder dislocated, but the stupid fucking fuse box is six feet off the ground and that's the only way to turn off the electricity running through Erica and Boyd.

"Batman, it's okay," Erica says, again, except this time she's shivering, a little, and has tears running down her cheeks. "Boyd, tell him he doesn't need to --," and she stops, words cutting off into a choked-back howl of pain.

"You don't look good, Stiles," Boyd says. He pauses, waits until the sparks on the fence have died down, adds, "You don't _smell_ good."

Stiles snorts, feels the action pull at his ribs and lungs and the bruises on his face. He absently wipes blood away from where it's gathering on his eyelashes, finally manages to short the fuse box out. The basement goes black and Erica and Boyd both let out gasping sounds of relief.

Stiles slumps forwards, braces himself against the wall as he takes just one minute -- just one -- to rest before he helps Erica and Boyd out of the wolfsbane cuffs. Except then he feels his head split apart and his heart skip a beat, vision going black at the edges. _No_ , he thinks, and forces himself up, staggers over to Erica, because if he can get her free, she can find a way to let Boyd loose, and they can hightail their way out of this portal to hell.

"Stiles," Erica says, and she never uses his name, not anymore, so to hear it now --

"I'm fine," he says, and doesn't even wince at his split lip when he smiles. "I'm -- I'm gonna get you two out of here if it takes my fucking life, swear to god."

He starts unbuckling the cuffs, fingers slipping on the wolfsbane oil rubbed into the leather, and thinks for a moment that he's imagining things, or that maybe the cuffs have been runed or charmed, because there are orange sparks dancing across his fingertips. He lifts his hands, doesn't want to put Erica at risk, but the sparks don't stop and then he feels it inside, too: a rush of fire through his body, scorching everything that hurts and making it better.

"Stiles?" Boyd asks. "Do you -- what the fuck."

"Shit," Stiles says. "Oh fucking shit, you have got to be -- shitting fuck, no, I'm too fucking old for this, there's no way, fucking -- god _damn_ it."

Erica kicks a little, enough to graze the top of her boot against Stiles' shin. "Freak out later," she says. "We're healing now that the power's off but it sounds like they're --," and the door at the top of the stairs opens. "Stiles, please, come on, just one cuff, I'll be able to handle the burns to get the other."

Stiles looks at her, hears the sharp intake when she sees his eyes. He knows, just _knows_ , they're a bright, gleaming orange. "Close your eyes," he says, gently, as the fire inside him melts the broken edges of his ribs together with what feels like an audible hiss. "You don't want to see this," and he turns around.

Gerard comes down the steps with a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other. He shines the light right at Stiles, starts to laugh when he sees the colour of Stiles' eyes.

"What's orange, Christopher?" he asks, sounds gleeful, as Chris gets to the bottom on the stairs, sweeps his flashlight around and lets it settle on Stiles as well. He, at least, looks horrified and doesn't answer his father's question. It doesn't seem to matter because Gerard steps closer, head tilted as he takes the safety off the gun. "Orange, orange, hmm, let me see. Kitsune?"

Stiles shakes his head.

"Certain kinds of magic users have orange, I think," Gerard says. "Metal mage? Fire elemental? Ifrit summoner?" Stiles shakes his head to each of those and Gerard laughs delightedly. "Something even more rare," he purrs, "and you fell right into our hands. A djinn?" When Stiles shakes his head yet again, Gerard's smile drops and he snaps, "Tell me, then, boy. What are you?"

Stiles lifts his hands and the fire comes back, this time not as little dancing flames but as fist-sized fireballs, orange flames with red centres. Chris' eyes widen in panic like he knows what Stiles is, like he's seen that before, and isn't that _fascinating_. Not enough to spare his life, though.

"I'm the son of Claudia Stilinski," he says, "who was, before she got married, a fucking _Vongola_." 

Chris' eyes close before the fire takes him. It takes him fast. Gerard, on the other hand, dies shrieking in furious panic.

Once Gerard's dead, Stiles snuffs out the flames and turns back to Erica and Boyd. He hesitates before reaching out to them but neither of them flinch, neither of them tell him to stop, to get away, so he undoes Erica's cuffs, catches her as she slumps, sits her down before letting Boyd loose. There are footsteps upstairs, people running everywhere, and Stiles wishes they had time but they don't.

"Stay behind me," he tells them.

Erica looks like she's about to argue but Boyd elbows her gently, nods in the direction of the two piles of Argent ash, says, "I think he's more dangerous than we are, facing hunters." He looks at Stiles, adds, thoughtfully, "Maybe facing everything."

He holds Stiles' gaze, nods once, then. Stiles, taken aback, returns it, asks, "Once we get out of here, where are you two heading?"

"With you," Erica says. She glances at Boyd, tells Stiles, "We were -- we were gonna leave but -- I feel safe with you."

"You still have a pack bond with Derek?" Stiles asks. Erica nods, Boyd too, and Stiles lets out a breath of pure relief. If he remembers his mother's stories correctly, he'll be reaching out to makes bonds, looking for people who are gifted and compatible. Erica and Boyd are both, even if they don't have flames, but he doesn't want to force a bond on them when he can't control himself and they don't know enough to give informed consent. 

Fuck, he doesn't want to bond with anyone. Bonds mean power, power means threat, and he has no idea who's ruling the famiglia these days but he's a direct bloodline descendent of the First. Descended but ungifted, he wasn't worthy of notice but now he's important, and every additional guardian he gathers means the confrontation will come quicker and harder, especially when his family finds out that he inherited the Vongola temper and intelligence -- and a measure of the famed Hyper Intuition. 

"All right, good," Stiles says, without telling them why. Erica and Boyd look at each other but thankfully seem content to wait for answers. Stiles motions for them to get up, eyes them carefully and nods when he sees that their healing factor has kicked in and they look mostly steady. "Like I said, stay behind me," and he reaches for his flames and consciously tells them what to do for the first time ever. A shield of orange wraps around him, covers the 'wolves as well. Stiles takes a deep breath, grins. "Let's burn this motherfucking place to the ground," he says, and launches a fireball at the ceiling. 

The flames go straight through, like a cannonball might, and Stiles storms up the steps as everyone upstairs is panicking at the unexpected and suddenly-appearing hole in the living room floor. He laughs, can't help it, and three minutes later, he and Erica and Boyd are standing in the street in front of the Argent home, watching the house burn, listening as the hunters trapped inside scream for mercy.

"Is -- is Allison in there?" Erica asks, once Stiles can hear the fire trucks coming, sirens blasting in the quiet night. 

Stiles' shrugs one shoulder. "Her own fault if she is," he says. "We gotta go."

Boyd reaches out, doesn't hesitate before putting his hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezing. "Let Erica lead," he says. "She's got the best ears. I'll give you a piggyback so we get out of here faster."

"Yeah," Stiles says. "Sounds good. Back to mine? I gotta call someone but I can make dinner. Pasta? Carbs have to be good for healing, right?"

Boyd turns, crouches, and Stiles jumps on his back. They follow Erica through the subdivision; Boyd's gait is pretty smooth and he's still running, even with Stiles limpet-clinging to his back, faster than Stiles would ever be able to on his own. It's kind of cool, distracts him a little from the throbbing he can feel in the center of his chest, a warm fire, little now but ready to be stoked much, much higher. God. He honestly thought he'd be safe but apparently his dying will is flameworthy -- and a sky at that.

His dad's gonna kill him.


End file.
